Motel Sprites: Part 5

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The summer before, Jacob had gone on a camping trip with some of his friends. What was supposed to be a normal outing to enjoy the outdoors away from civilization had taken a turn for the fantastical when Jacob had discovered a tiny little man in their campsite. Sporting green clothes that blended in with the forest, he couldn’t stand over four inches tall.

He’d had wings. Vibrant green ones that mimicked leaves as if the little guy had fallen off of a tree and into existence all at once. With bright green eyes to match, contrasting with his brown skin, Bowman Leafwing had looked every part a forest fairy. Not that he ever let anyone call him that.

Jacob had gone back to that forest many times since then, learning a bit more about the wood sprites and how they lived. One thing he remembered distinctly was that sprites were not especially good climbers, so if that little figure speeding up the string as fast as his little arms would allow was a sprite, he didn’t come from Wellwood.

“Holy shit.” Jacob didn’t have time for many other thoughts. He lurched forward, careful not to bump the table, and crouched down next to it. “Dude, don’t fall!” Before his worry could become a reality, Jacob’s hands darted out and cupped several inches underneath the tiny guy. That way, at least, no one had to break any bones in their rush.

Sam balked from the edge of the table, taking a step away from the human. It was like seeing a mountain rise up and rush at them all at once, and it was hard to believe that all of that was just one guy.

Dean was in much worse shape. Jacob’s movement through the air sent the thread swinging slightly, enough to offset his balance. He clung desperately to it, all climbing halted. One foot wrapped around the climbing thread to anchor him in place while he yanked out his knife, an instinctive reaction even in midair.

“I was doing fine before you!” Dean snapped angrily, holding the knife threateningly. Most of the threat was reduced by the fact that he couldn’t actually reach the guy to strike unless he physically put his hand an inch within reach. 

“Back off!”

Dean flails.

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Motel Sprites: Part 4

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Sam darted out from cover first, dashing over to the leg of the table. Though he disagreed with Dean on their timing, knowing they’d be better off waiting for this kid to step out of the room or fall asleep, there was also the possibility that the food would be put in the mini-fridge in the corner. The second it went in there, it would be out of their reach forever. They would be back to scrounging for scraps and discards.

Flattening his back against the table leg, Sam chanced one look out at where Jacob was, then motioned for Dean, starting the second half of their routine.

Dean ran full-speed at the table, pulling out his hook as he went. He sized up the toss and twirled the hook once, twice, three times to gain momentum before releasing it to arc up into the air.

It sailed up, and even as Dean hit the leg of the table next to Sam, found its mark. He tugged twice and smirked as he handed the black thread over to Sam to climb up. He never missed his mark.

Sam scrambled up the thread without missing a beat.

Jacob’s voice, deep and mellow, created the background noise for their risky plan. When the call connected, he couldn’t help a brief smile. “Hey, mom,” he greeted, knowing at least some of her concerns were immediately quelled. “Yeah, Kansas,” he said in reply to something on the other line.

His gaze didn’t wander much from the odd, plain painting behind the TV, sparing Sam and Dean from a glance. “Uh-huh. I got some brochures and stuff that we can look at when I get back. I probably could try to make the overnight drive …”

He trailed off and the faint mumble of his mother insisting he not do that could be heard out of the little phone. Jacob chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna,” he insisted. More mumbling from the phone. “Little place called Trails West. It’s cozy. Somehow I’ll survive.”

Sam reached the top of the table as Jacob droned on about the area he was in. Keeping the plastic bag of food between him and the human, he signaled Dean it was safe to come up.

Dean started his climb, slow and steady and nothing like Sam. He had never taken to the activity like his younger brother, preferring to keep his feet on solid ground. Solid, low ground. Unfortunately, their size worked against them in many ways, and one of them was the necessity of climbing and keeping to heights out of reach when possible, resigning Dean to a life of climbing. Sending up Sam as a sentry had become a regular habit between them, giving them the smallest amount of exposure down on the ground possible.

Sam sighed as he waited, looking once more around the bag to make sure that Jacob remained in the dark to their presence.

For all appearances, Jacob might never look their way. He had a patient look on his face as his mother went over her plans for the next few days, and how glad she was that he was on track despite his setbacks going into his last year of high school. A year was a long time, and it gave him a chance to heal.

“Yeah, mom, love you too,” he finally got to say. She seemed mollified about his stay in the Trails West motel, and let him hang up without more fuss.

As his thumb mashed the End button, he turned to the side to toss the phone down next to the rest of his stuff. That food was waiting, and his eyes next went right for the table. He was so shocked by what he saw that he froze halfway to a stand.

Hanging from a string, dangling at least a foot off the floor and climbing up to the table, was a tiny little figure. Jacob stared, not even noticing anyone else around, and finally straightened. “A sprite?” he blurted, more confusion than anything else in his tone.

Well, Dean’s plan has gone as well as Sam predicted!

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!

Motel Sprites: Part 3

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Dean waved Sam off. “All we gotta do is wait for him to be distracted. In, out, there’s nothing to it. Everyone gets food and he goes on never knowing we exist.”

Sam sighed. “Walt will kill you one of these days.”

Dean flashed a charming, confident grin. “Haven’t been caught yet, have I?”

The tiny conversation in the room never caught Jacob’s attention as he shifted his bag around on the bed, dumping out some of his things and snagging his small phone from a side pouch. In his hands, the little thing bordered on ridiculous, and he had gotten many comments before about his thumbs being too big for the buttons. He was nearing his full height, inches over six feet, and he had the hands to match.

Even so, he poked out a quick message on the phone with relative ease, used to making use of such small buttons. It helped that he had quite a bit of practice with almost everything being made for someone with smaller hands.

With the text sent, he tossed it back to the bed with a single bounce, and then grabbed his supplies to move them to the bathroom sink. As he trudged across the room, hardly making note of the decor or the faded paint, he rolled his shoulder with a faint wince. It seemed like it was always stiff now, despite it being months since it had pained him. A jagged, puckered scar, hidden beneath layers of t-shirt and hoodie, was supposed to be all that was left of the wound.

At least he didn’t have to use a cane to hold himself up anymore. He tossed his supplies into the sink alcove, and then wandered back to the main room.

His phone was already blinking to show it had a return message. When he grabbed it, he almost rolled his eyes at the simple urgency of the Call me? on the tiny screen.

Wearily and hoping he wouldn’t take so long that his food cooled off, Jacob sat on the end of the bed and dialed the number to give his mother a call to let her know he was okay.

While Jacob got settled, the Winchesters were on the move.

This has to spell trouble…

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!